


States and Other Relevant Fragments

by Pandanator



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Drama, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandanator/pseuds/Pandanator
Summary: A collection of RvB drabbles that will mainly be about the Freelancers, but may also cover other things within the RvB universe.
Relationships: Agent Connecticut/Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue)
Kudos: 13





	1. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the desert, Agent Washington begins to remember.

How did she end up here?

That was what Wash wondered as he stared down into the golden visor. Harsh and angular, how was he just noticing now?

He leaned down to brush some sand off the brown surface of her helmet, and picked it up. Touch. Feel. It feels as though an eternity had passed since Wash last held her.

It was starting. The memories - his memories, he was sure of it - came like the tide. He was remembering, remembering her face, and her name, and how soft she was to him. He remembered how she'd started to hide her face more, and how she took her name away, and how soft she tried to stay (for him, he thought), until it was too late.

Remembrance was something Wash often struggled with. Had trouble distinguishing. But he had come to his own conclusions.

Wash dropped the helmet and turned to make his way back to the others. They might be wondering where he was.

Remembrance, Wash decided, wasn't worth the pain it caused.


	2. Among Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late one night aboard the Mother of Invention, Agent Connecticut goes for a stroll.

It was after-hours in the star-speckled void of deep space, and the _Mother of Invention_ was sound asleep, seeming to drift aimlessly, and yet with undeniable purpose through the abyss. Some Freelancers slept well, dreaming of better futures, while others could only dream of broken pasts. And some, Connie thought, had a hard time dreaming at all. 

Eyes wide open and staring up into the darkness above her bunk, she sighed and silently extricated herself from her covers. Sleep would not come easy this night.

Stepping onto the cold metal floor of her shared quarters, she glanced furtively towards Carolina’s bunk, careful not to wake her slumbering teammate as she crept soundlessly from the room. 

Carolina dreamt of broken pasts, Connie thought.

Connie had always harboured a small, secret fear of the dark, but as she walked through the dimly lit, empty hallways, she felt her fear amplified. The orange-tinted guide lights only illuminated the path forward, and not whatever ghosts lurked in the shadows that surrounded her, and Connie thought she could feel their eyes upon her. Unsure of her destination, she quickened her pace, trying to escape the sudden chill that seemed to sweep through the ship.

She shook her head and gritted her teeth. Badass super-soldier, scared of ghosts - York could never find out about this. 

Her mother had always been superstitious, and so growing up she’d sort of picked up on those beliefs herself, though no one except for Wash knew. He knew a lot of things about her, and she liked to think that maybe he even understood some of them.

She wished he was here, in this dark hallway, to offer his reassurances no matter how paper-thin. Because yes, she was scared, and no, she didn’t know where she was going.

She thought back to Carolina, dreaming her restless dreams. Carolina wasn’t scared of anything, she was _fearless_ , and Connie thought that if it were Carolina walking through these darkened halls, she wouldn’t have spared a single thought nor glance for the shadows and the phantoms that may-or-may-not be lying in wait. 

Connie padded along, turning a corner and coming face to face with a glass window, through which shined an all too familiar blue light.

The board hung mounted on the wall in the room beyond the window, seeming to taunt her with its brilliance. She tried to walk past, to not be devoured by the voracious blue light that the Freelancers had only recently become all too eager to please. 

She placed a small hand on the glass pane, and let her eyes rove over the names - the very best of Project Freelancer.

1. _Carolina_  
2. _York_  
3. _Wyoming_  
4. _North Dakota_  
5\. _South Dakota_  
6. _Washington_

Even though it hardly surprised her - they saw the board everyday, after all - she couldn’t stop a less than pleasant feeling from rearing its ugly head somewhere deep within her. 

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and tore her eyes away from the board, slinking away from the blue light, and back into the darkness, suddenly missing the ghosts.

Fear keeps you grounded, and many people say that’s a good thing - it keeps you safe. But what Connie learned after joining Freelancer, was that fear also kept you from soaring through the sky. It would halt your rise into the air and slam you back down to the earth so you could watch as everyone else spread their wings far above. 

Fear was a motivator, that way.

(She wouldn’t be left behind).

For a time, she walked the halls among the not-yet-but-soon-to-be-familiar ghosts, and eventually, all the while making silent promises to herself, returned to sleep. She crawled back beneath her covers, and shut her eyes tightly as she tried to ignore the sound of Carolina’s soft breathing, hoping she’d remember her dreams come morning.


End file.
